The Words of my Father

Tags

adoptee, adoption, aging, Charlottesville, Dad, Diaries, Memory, Mortality, Sunset, Virginia, Wisdom

Note to my readers: I grew up in Charlottesville, Virginia, and this post was inspired by memories of my late adoptive Dad, a professor at the University of Virginia. Like many others, I’m shocked and saddened by recent events in Charlottesville, and I re-publish this reflection in a spirit of compassion.

 

Memory is a child walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things.~Pierce Harris, Atlanta Journal

Today I’d like to share my memory of the last lucid conversation I had with my adoptive Dad. Richard Leonard Beard was a World War II clinical psychologist for the

I’ve kept a journal all my life. It’s enlightening to read voices from the past…

army air force, college professor, and most of all—my hero and role model. I lost him years ago, in the nineties, but lately he has been vividly in my imagination. When going through some of my old diaries, I found this entry:

 My father and I were walking around the gentle hills of Charlottesville, Virginia. I’d left Virginia for New Mexico, embarking on my own life, but I visited at least once or twice a year. He and my mother had moved to a senior community named “Stonehenge.” I found the title amusing, thinking it conjured up the wisdom of the ages. On this particular evening, I was out walking with the wisest man I knew.
    The sun was setting and mist arose from the earth. Instead of a blazing sunset like those I experienced in New Mexico, this “sky-scape” was layered in subtle pastels…pink, peach and gray.
    Though I don’t recall my exact words, I told my father that when I was 70, his age at the time, I wouldn’t mind dying. I would, I told him, be ready to leave the earth.
    “You’ll feel differently when you’re there,” he retorted. “You’ll want more years ahead of you. Many more years.” I wanted to disagree, but I knew that argument was futile. Daddy was strong minded.
    Life happened. Marriage, children, divorce, grandchildren. Suddenly I was the age

Ahead of his time, my college professor Dad spearheaded a book TV program in the1950s

my father was when he made his pronouncement.
    He’d left years earlier, but I felt that at some mysterious psychic level, he could hear and understand me. “You were right,” I longed to tell him.

 

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Adopting a “Home Away from Home”

Tags

adoptee, adoption, Authors, Bellydancing, Farmers Market, Maxine Davenport, New Mexico Book Association, nonfiction, Novels, Santa Fe NM, writing

My town, Santa Fe, New Mexico, has a great Farmers Market, and, because of Maxine Davenport, retired attorney-turned-mystery writer, other local authors and I are now part of it. We comprise HOMEGROWN AUTHORS. The New Mexico Book Association sponsors us. Interested authors (who must be part of the New Mexico Book Association) apply two weeks ahead of time to be at the tables. HOMEGROWN AUTHORS is at the market Tuesday mornings from 7 a.m. till 1 p.m. and Wednesday afternoon from 3 till 7 p.m.. We greet locals and visitors, the latter hailing from all over the world. On a good day, we sell lots of our books.

Maxine, in her website http://www.davenportstories.com, tells how “Homegrown Authors” got started…
This will be the fifth year that Homegrown Authors has appeared at Farmers Market. In 2012, Rosemary Zibart and I were discussing the need for outlets where local authors could sell their books. Some bookstores had ceased selling self-published books, particularly if they were connected to Amazon. Rosemary suggested that we investigate the possibility of selling at the Santa Fe Farmers Market. Actually, she suggested that I do that research, and the result, after a meeting with the Farmers Market Board, was that we were allowed to set up a table. We tried the Saturday venue and discovered that Saturday buyers knew exactly what they had come for and were less interested in shopping for books. The noise made it impossible to converse with visitors. On Tuesdays there are many tourists, and local shoppers are more interested in stopping by for a chat.

While we remain independent, the New Mexico Book Association agreed to act as sponsor. We have seen an increase in book sales despite a decrease in member participation. Some authors find that they aren’t cut out to be booksellers and others love it. We’ve never had trouble filling our chairs.

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Last Wednesday brought exotic music and a talented troupe of dancers.

The Wednesday market often features entertainment. Last week, we were entertained by a belly dancing troupe, the week before that, by “Wise Fools” and a children’s play. Speaking of children, they love playing in the market’s indoor area. Plenty of room for them to race about without being in anyone’s way. Homegrown Authors has a resident children’s author, Sandi Wright, whose book Santa Fe Sam delights children of all ages.

If you’re in Santa Fe, be sure to come visit us at the Market. We feature discounts, write inscriptions to order and are always happy to talk about the craft of writing. The beauty of the venue? In addition to being surrounded by a cornucopia of locally grown fruit and vegetables, the wonderful opportunity to meet our readers.

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Join Elaine on Mondays for blog posts on adoption, hiking, travel, and the writing life. It’s all grist for the mill! If you have an adoption-related post in mind, send me a message: I welcome guest bloggers.

 

Blue Monday or Serenity in San Diego

Tags

adoptee, adoption, Getting away, healing, Relaxation, San Diego, Travel

The road going nowhere in particular

 

 

“Wherever you go, you take yourself with you” goes the saying. After arriving for a short vacation in one of my favorite cities, San Diego, I was therefore not surprised that “Edgar” had brought himself along for the ride. He, or “it” if you prefer, had packed himself in the depths of my ginormous suitcase, amongst the slacks, tops, electronics, books, walking shoes and books. Egad, can’t I go anywhere to escape from that demon?
To understand Edgar, you need to know that I am a “recovering” adoptee. My original mother relinquished me when I was five. Even though I grew up with wonderful adoptive parents, I’ve struggled for years to come to terms with being adopted. I wish I could announce in a loud voice that I’ve succeeded in getting over my adoption issues. The best I can offer, however, is to say confidently that I am making progress.
This change of scene, however, has been more beneficial than weeks of therapy. San Diego’s magic begins to take effect the moment I arrive. The adjectives that come to mind: salubrious, sensational, scenic. Add to that another ingredient: simplicity. There is something quite wonderful about running away from home. Life can be pared down to an easier pace.
My host family goes to work or school every weekday at 7 a.m., so on this slightly overcast Spring morning, I leave for a two-hour walk to and from a nearby coffee shop. I’ve been visiting this San Diego neighborhood for the better part of the last decade and traveling the same route, to the java cafe. First it was “It’s a Grind,” which went out of business. Then it became “Sweetest Buzz.” But this time, there is no coffee shop. Where the “Buzz” should have been loomed a completely empty retail space. A “For Lease” sign was taped on the window. A sad, empty storefront occupied the place I’d spent memorable hours composing on my laptop and sipping lattes.
Had the expedition fallen flat, or was there something else awaiting me? Instead of going home right away, I decide to check out the park near my host family’s house. Walking a couple miles back to the neighborhood, I sit and enjoy a serenade of songbirds, the ambiance of healthy young trees, a verdant carpet of green grass.
The park itself is a marvel. When I first saw it years ago, it looked unpromising, even hopeless. Today, the community outdoor space is filled with children swinging, sliding, digging in the sandbox. Parents visit with one another. Laughter from a toss ball game sounds across the field. An elderly man is marching along the sidewalk, stopping at each circuit workout to do pushups or pullups or a balance beam.
The day isn’t complete, however, until I take a hike on the nearby former dairy road. It’s a road I’ve walked before. One of the city’s many walking paths, it branches off from a busy thoroughfare and loops back into a small canyon. Thistle, purple flowers, and feathery plumed bushes brighten a brown and sage terrain. Ahead of me, a large bird, strutting in a quail-like fashion, walks across my path. Other than it, I am alone. The sun intensifies, but just in time a gentle breeze picks up.
Of course, being a grandmother/writer and retired from a regular career means that life should be simpler anyway. That’s not how it works, however. When I’m at home, a million projects shout out: “clean me,” “organize me,” “declutter me.” Right here, in sunny, wonderful San Diego, the only thing I have to declutter is my mind. Accepting victory, I acknowledge that I’ve once again I dueled the evil Edgar. On this gloriously sunny Monday, mine is the victory.

The author is reminded that “Not all who wander are lost”

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In Pursuit of Roots

Tags

adoptee, adoption, adoption child, celebrity adoption, diary about adoption, elaine pinkerton, family histor, family roots, family tree, friends, juniper tree, the goodbye baby, wounded, writing

Dear Readers: It happens every summer: I’m taking a “Blog-cation to work on The Hand of Ganesha, a sequel to All the Wrong Places. The protagonist of both novels is an adoptee, Clara Jordan. Enjoy this re-posting of thoughts originally published in 2012. The lack of “roots,” though I’ve come to grips with it, continues to be a challenge. If you’re an adoptee and have ever felt the need for a family tree, please send your feedback. Like other adoptees I’ve met, I’m still searching for the answers!

Last night I watched a program on public television that reminded me of being an adoptee. The emptiness and longing for a tribe of my own, a feeling I wrongly assumed I had put to rest, was back with a vengeance.

“Finding your Roots,” which featured three celebrities exploring their family trees, was all about searching to find a place where you belong, piecing together the past, and learning where and how your ancestors lived. The show was well presented and dramatized the interviewees’ journeys to discover their their true heritage.

My outsider status syndrome immediately kicked in. How fortunate, I thought, to even possess a genealogy that you could call your own. Growing up as an adoptee, I longed for years to claim a so-called “family tree.” I’d been to Italy with my birthfather Giovanni Cecchini. After our reunion, we travelled to Abruzzi, where he was born. I met my non-English-speaking cousins, aunts and uncles. Following the journey to Italy, my birthfather’s second wife (not my birthmother) helped me secure a detailed listing of paternal relatives.

With my adoptive mom’s help, I’d was able to chart out a family tree for my ancestry record, going back just a couple centuries. Those two charts were intellectual exercises, but I couldn’t relate to them.

Two family trees, but neither really fit who I was. Though I had the DNA of the biological parentage, I was shaped and molded by my adoptive parents. Rather than give in to an emotional meltdown, however, I thought long and hard about why the “Finding your Roots” program tried to break my heart. Tried but failed.

When I was young, I made up a myth about being adopted.The underlying theme was “Oh, poor me.” That was a way of reacting to everything, seemingly as fixed as the stars in the Big Dipper or the belt of the constellation Orion. However, I was not a fixed star and I could shape a new truth.

Juniper Tree. Everything, seemingly as fixed as the stars in the Big Dipper or the belt of the constellation Orion. However, I was not a fixed star and I could shape a new truth.

 

I decided to emulate the indomitable juniper tree. It will send roots down 25 feet in order to survive. Here’s a description from the National Park Service’s website:

“Junipers grow in some of the most inhospitable landscapes imaginable, thriving in an environment of baking heat, bone-chilling cold, intense sunlight, little water and fierce winds. Often they appear to grow straight out of solid rock.”

This is the kind of family tree that will serve me well.

Join Elaine on alternate Mondays for reflections on adoption and life. Your feedback is invited!

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Adopting Amelia Island

Tags

adoptee, adoptee restoration, adoption, All the Wrong Places, Amelia Island, Beaches, Fernandina Florida, parents, The Book Loft

It’s always fun to play on the beach!

Lucky to have stepmother Margaret in my life! (Birthfather’s widow)

Adoptees possess a multi-layered parentage. As one pundit observed, being adopted is “both a blessing and a curse.” My beloved adopted parents, Richard and Reva Beard, passed away in the 1990s; my birthparents shortly thereafter. But I am not without a parent. My birthfather’s second wife, his widow Margaret, has taken me under her wing. Over the years, she’s welcomed me into her Florida home. Today finds me in Fernandina, on beautiful Amelia Island, both visiting Margaret and doing an “east coast launch” of my new suspense novel All the Wrong Places.

“Launch” is the term I like to use for my upcoming book signing, but for me it’s the launching of much more. I hope to be spending part of every year in Fernandina Beach. Amelia Island is small (13 miles long), friendly, literary and enticingly beautiful. Its main town Fernandina, Florida is the perfect contrast to my high and dry hometown of Santa Fe, New Mexico. Verdant. Bordered by pristine sandy beaches, it is literally an island paradise.

Now available!

In addition to a book signing I’m using my island sojourn for beach walking, reading and working on the next adventure of my All the Wrong Places protagonist Clara Jordan. If you’re in the area this weekend, please join me on Sunday for a 4 p.m. signing. at The Book Loft, tucked away at 214 Centre Street. I’d love to inscribe a copy of All the Wrong Places for you and chat about books and writing.

Adoption is still my “Something”

Tags

adoptee, adoption, adoption child, discover, empower, healing, separation, wounded

Note from Elaine: Five years after writing this post, originally published in 2012 – I’ve incorporated the theme of “adoption” in fiction. Clara Jordan, heroine of my new suspense novel All the Wrong Places, travels from Virginia to New Mexico hoping to locate an unknown birthmother. Instead of finding roots, she falls in love with Henry, who leads a double life and betrays her. She runs further into trouble as she searches petroglyphs for traces of a mother she’s never known. All the Wrong Places is available from http://www.pocolpress.com. I’ll give a reading at Collected Works Bookstore on May 15th, 6 p.m. in Santa Fe.

If you’re in Santa Fe, NM on Monday, May 15, 6 p.m. please join me and Santa Fe author Peggy vanHulsteyn for a reading and booksigning. It’s at Collected Works, 202 Galisteo, in downtown Santa Fe. (Peggy’s mystery-in-progress is titled The Art of Murder)

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It’s been said that trauma is not a mystery, that it attaches itself to you in a way that’s hard to undo. My story, as related in The Goodbye Baby, offers living proof. Being an adoptee has added melodrama to my life, created a passion for writing, and ultimately inspired me to take off the masks and to discover who I really am.

Though I was fortunate enough to land in an adoptive family who loved and cherished me, it could not make up for losing that first “mother connection.” My birth mother and I said goodbye before I started first grade, and I waited 38 years for her to come back into my life. I was deeply wounded by the separation.

My struggles have been with feeling abandoned, isolated, and rejected. I’ve worried for years that I will be misunderstood and that I’m simply not good enough- as a daughter, a friend, a partner, a mother, or even as a human being.

My son and I in Greece.

Because of being adopted, I felt small and insignificant. Probably because adoption wasn’t something my family discussed, my negative assumptions became deeply embedded. Throughout my adult years, I accomplished a great deal, but in my mind, I was never admirable. Harmful pangs of inadequacy took root and shaped my outlook, my decisions, my disastrous romantic choices.  Until I re-read my diaries, I never realized that I myself had invented the self-damaging myth.

How did I deal with my adoption-induced complexes? My adoptive parents had to raise a delinquent teenager who drank excessively, stayed out too late and attracted bad boyfriends. As I grew older, I tended to be an over-achiever: running nine marathons to lower my finishing time, yet always “keeping score” and endlessly coming up short.

Twenty-three years ago, when I first started to write about my adoption, the title of my book was Reunions. My plan was to meet both my biological parents and write about finding the missing puzzle pieces. I met my original parents, but the reunions were not what I hoped for.  The pieces were in place but the puzzle remained. Only writing The Goodbye Baby completed the picture.

What my adoption has taught me is that the world reflects my inner reality, that my happiness or unhappiness depend on my actions and not on outside forces. I’ve learned that it is never too late to make a fresh start.

I have always known I would be a writer. In the summer of 1962, I wrote in my diary,

“Some of this frantic recording is wasted energy. How can I have a future as a writer?…I need to find something to say.”

The theme of adoption is that “something.”

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An Earth Day March for Science

Tags

adoptee, Earth Day, Peaceful Demonstrating, Rally, running, Science, Walking

Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.                                        ~Arundhati Roy

When my hometown of Santa Fe, New Mexico hosted footraces throughout the spring and summer, I never missed one. Along with friends ( we were what some might call “run-a-holics”) I ran five and ten kilometer distances. Before a knee injury put a stop to my running, I completed nine marathons and took an hour off my finishing time. Many happy memories.

Every April around Earth Day, there was a footrace. The Plaza, in the heart of downtown, would fill with runners, their friends and families. We participants, warding off the early morning chill, would line up. The elite speedsters were at the front;  the middle-of-the-roaders (like me) were in the middle; walkers and joggers were at the back. A shot from the starting gun and we’d take off. The Old Santa Fe Trail Run, a popular ten-kilometer, wound uphill from the Plaza, around the museum hill complex and then back to the Plaza. A tough but scenic course.

Fast forward a few decades to Earth Day 2017. The Plaza again filled with people, dressed not for a race but a hike. We had gathered for the Santa Fe March for Science. The mood was positive but there was an edge: a message to those in charge. Basically, it was to stop politicizing science and to support scientific pursuits.

Photos courtesy of Donna and Bob

Carrying a variety of signs and banners, the crowd of 3,000 snaked around the Plaza and ended up at the State Capital Building. Less than a mile. Local and area politicians spoke, people listened, bobbed their signs in the air, eventually drifted away. The morning was filled with camaraderie, and it felt positive to be making a statement.

That said, I missed the halcyon days of footraces. Looking back, it seemed a kinder, gentler time. What can one do, however, but adopt the now? It’s what we have.

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Join Elaine every other Monday for reflections on adoption and life. Her new suspense novel, All the Wrong Places, can be ordered: http://www.pocolpress.com or from Amazon.

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FOOD ~ Adopting “The Right Stuff”

Tags

adoptee, Adoption recovery, Better Living, Cooking, Health, Herbs, Juices, Organic, Teas, Vegetables

Elaine and Dr. Davie preparing dinner.

As an adoptee, it seems I’m always trying to improve myself. Longtime fitness buff- skier, hiker, former marathon runner, I thought I was doing fine in the food department. Maybe not everything right, but OK. When I took a weekend course in Culinary Healing from Dr. Joalie Davie, I learned how to do much better. Eating ones way to better health involved much more than I’d imagined. Shopping wisely, learning about the differences in nutritional value of foods that looked but aren’t alike and using spices and herbs to heal…these were just a few bonuses of the culinary weekend.

The two-day workshop included dinner, complete with healthy appetizers and a breakfast with several courses. It was held in Joalie’s light, spacious home, situated near foothills of the Rocky Mountains and surrounded by flowering fruit trees. The other student, Bruce, a therapist from New York, had flown in the night before.

We convened at 5:30 on a Friday evening.at Joalie’s home. Cooking aromas met me as i took off my shoes in the foyer and walked into the cosy kitchen/sitting area. Bruce was already there, perched on a barstool facing the range and counters. Jolie served us with an appetizer of sliced heirloom tomatoes garnished with avocado wedges and red caviar. Lightly salted and peppered, the appetizer was drizzled with flax seed oil and cumin.

Day One’s Dinner Menu: Red snapper, flounder, both delicately sautéed; quinoa, steamed asparagus, Okinawan potatoes, and baked Granny Smith apples. This was followed by sesame seed crunch and several homemade dark chocolate treats.

I was cautious about eating tomatoes, as I suffer from occasional outbreaks of lichen planus a gum inflammation that can be worsened by acidic foods. Assuaging my worries, Joalie explained that green and yellow tomatoes are lower in acid.

“At home you might try making a paste of tumeric and water,” she added. “Use a teaspoon of tumeric with some water. Rub it on your gums and inner cheeks. This paste can be swallowed when you’re done, and can provide relief. That doesn’t mean you have to stop using the steroid rinse prescribed by your periodontist. Use both.”

This suggestion was the first of many that were sprinkled throughout our cooking sessions, and it was one that I’d put into action.

Our next appetizer was pickled cabbage that Joalie shredded with a mixer stick. It was delicious, highly beneficial, and much milder than any sauerkraut I’d had. As we sampled this tasty snack, Joalie explained, “First you remove the outside leaves of a head of cabbage, either red or green. Cut it up and soak it in a teaspoon of Celtic or Himalayan salt with filtered water. Let it sit for two days in jars, covered loosely with lids. Then blend with the mixer stick and refrigerate for two more days. After that, it’s ready.”

More dishes and beverages were prepared and consumed, detailed instructions and

Quinoa, asparagus, potatoes, red snapper and flounder comprised the main course.

demonstrations with each course. Sometimes we helped with preparations, sometimes we simply observed. Along the way we sampled many beverages, including raw milk, tea made from cilantro, Foti root tea, chai made with cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, black pepper, allspice and cardamom. A medley of juices throughout the evening. “You can make juice from many things,” Joalie told us. “Whatever is fresh, good, local.” We sampled juices made with parsley, celery, lettuce, cilantro, fennel, carrots. They were delicious, refreshing and energizing.

Day Two: Back to Joalie’s the next day. More chai, hot cereal of rye and oats with walnuts, dates, vanilla and maple syrup, fried organic eggs, Kombucha, and a variety of teas and juices. An added treat comprised roe from the flounder of the previous dinner.

New ways with hot cereal!

In addition to the yummy dinner and breakfast, we were given dozens of health tips relating to food. I took notes about everything and will put the knowledge It’s hard to decide which foods I liked best. All were delicious, and it became clear that the quality of ingredients really does matter. Care and imagination in preparing makes a difference. In a way, a good lesson for the Salon of the Mind!

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Join Elaine on alternate Mondays for reflections on Adoption and Life. Her newest novel, All the Right Stuff (Pocol Press) is about adoptee Clara Jordan and will debut at Collected Works Bookstore and Coffee Shop, 202 Galisteo, Santa Fe, NM at 6 p.m., Monday, May 15. Please come if you’re in Santa Fe. If you’re elsewhere, order directly from http://www.pocolpress.com. For more information about Dr. Joalie Davie, to to http://www.healthfromwithin.org

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Bopping around Barcelona

Tags

adoptee, adoption, Antoni Gaudi, Architecture, Art Noveau, Barcelona, Discovery, European travel, Mediterranean Odyssey, Viking Ocean Cruise

Every voyage is an exploration and every journey a discovery of the true self. -Kidore Hobbs

It’s no accident that “adoptee” and “authenticity” both start with “A.” As I’ve chronicled

The Goodbye Baby gives an insider view of growing up adopted.

in The Goodbye Baby-Adoptee Diaries, my way through a forest of adoptee-induced emotions is journaling. Another route is travel. As an adoptee who spent a lifetime searching for a sense of family and a “real” family tree, I go to unknown for self-understanding. As Martin Burber sagely remarked, “All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.”

Europe calls me. My late birthfather Giovanni Cecchini was born in San Martino Sulla Marricina, Abruzzo, Italy, and my late birthmother was German. Two years ago, I explored eastern Germany. Recently, along with lifetime gal pal Jeri, I traveled by ship on a tour aptly titled Mediterranean Odyssey. Each day we disembarked to spend a day or two in a different city. The countries we docked at were Spain, France, Monaco,Italy, and Croatia. Italy, of course, was a top destination (more about Italy in a future post), but for years I’d dreamed of traveling to Barcelona, Spain and seeing the architecture of Antoni Gaudi.

This month that dream became a reality! Barcelona was the first stop of a 2 1/2 week-long Viking Ocean Cruise. Spain’s Catalonian capital is a visual feast. A great city brimming with history, wide boulevards, a magnificent L’Arc de Triumf, elegant buildings and a wonderful atmosphere. After hours in airplanes traveling from New Mexico to Spain, Jeri and I were eager to walk, and walk we did…

We strode the famous Las Ramblas – a mile-long leave pedestrian way. A wonderfully wide road, completely closed off from cars, the route drew us back several times during our Barcelona stay. Sidewalk cafes serving tapas provided lunches, each one tastier than the one before. A highlight was the extensive open air market, literally bursting with lane after lane of beautiful fruit, vegetables, meat, cheeses, baked specialties, flowers, spices and more.

The best of Barcelona, however, comprised the astonishing creations of Antoni Gaudi, the brilliant and endlessly creative nineteenth century architect. He produced wonders such as La Sagrada Familia Cathedral, Casa Batlló and La Predrera. Having always loved Art Nouveau, I resonated with Gaudi more than any other aspect of Barcelona. Herewith, Gaudi details that reveal the man’s genius.

Window of La Familia Sagrada Cathedral

“House of Bones”

Atrium, Casa Batlló

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Join author Elaine Pinkerton on alternate Mondays for posts about adoption and life. Your feedback is invited. Coming in May: her newest novel All the Wrong Places (Pocol Press).

Adoption Recovery 101

Tags

Acceptance, Adaptation, adoptee, adoption, labyrinth, Reflections, Sarah Ban Breathnach

The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

…Nothing so wise as a circle. -Rilke

This morning’s labyrinth walk yielded reflections that I’d like to share with you…

With the publication of The Goodbye Baby-Adoptee Diaries, a memoir comprised of diary entries from the 1950s through 1980s, I began to heal from years of repressed anger and pain. I forgave the past and myself. I redirected my imagination. Instead of dwelling on all those invisible wounds (from being separated from my birthparents), I was able to focus on writing.

After The Goodbye Baby, I decided that I’d moved on. Producing a memoir was instructive and healing. Helpful as it was, however, it wasn’t enough. Or to put it more accurately, it didn’t last. The stress and instability of my first five years of life sometimes come back to haunt me.

Here’s my newest “rescue remedy,” a three-pronged remedy for adoption recovery.

ACCEPTANCE –
Realizing the difference between dreams and expectations. As Sarah Ban Breathnach recommends in Simple Abundance, I’m following her recommendation:
“You dream. Show up for work. Then let Spirit deliver your dream to the world.”

WALKING-
I do this daily and I reaffirmed this intention with creating a new edition of my             guidebook Santa Fe on Foot. (www.santafeonfoot.com)

READING-
Allowing time each day for books.
I spend time reading for edification, for entertainment, for information, and (sometimes) sheer escape.

We really do not know what’s in store for us. As Sarah Breathnach recommends, “…we’ll only find out once we start investing our emotions in authentic expression, and not in specific outcomes.” Don’t get caught up in the “delivery details.”

Keep your dreams even as you accept what IS. Join Elaine on alternate Mondays for adoption thoughts.